Sky Fall
by Abbi Lee
Summary: Yamamoto Takeshi finds himself taking care of an angel.


Sky Fall

He fell from the sky.

We were nomadic people. Hunters. Moving across the land, taking what we needed and leaving behind what we didn't. We never over stayed our welcome and only relied upon ourselves and our own strength. No allies, no enemies, and no trades. We made what we had and lived with what we could get. A solitary life as a tribe, and a tense one among individuals.

So when he had came I expected my people to kill him. That winged man. But no. His feathers were white.

That was enough for everyone to worship him.

But there was more to him. His appearance. White hair, not silver or gray, but pure white. Whiter than the winter's snow, his eyes blue like the sky he fell from.

This was enough. People said he was pure.

He was beautiful, it was a fact.

He had a familiar face. A face that you felt you had glimpsed at before but you knew that you couldn't have. You definitely would've remembered such a face.

He did not speak.

"You don't like me do you?"

Except to me.

I am, in my own words, his servant.

But in the words of the chief, I am his apostle. He chose me.

I know my place.

I smiled questionly at him as if asking what he meant.

He smiled and looked away.

Ah. He did it again.

I was brushing his wings with a artistically designed brush. Every lady of the village donated a gemstone with the chance of it to be used in the creation of this brush. Bright sapphire stone budded with emeralds, aquamarines, and rubies, laced with gold. On its back is a carved angel design with wings and a halo, meant to be in his image. Black as night thistles.

The people really adored him, like a pet.

I think he knew this.

He's always looking at me with a pained look on his face, like he wants me to do something.

I do nothing but smile.

Continuing to brush, I think of others. How in training they would slap my back commenting how lucky I was. The elders bowed to me in respect. My father continually praises me and my siblings work tirelessly to make me speak of everything that goes on through my servation of the winged one. From the exact shape of the clouds to the placement of each strand in his hair.

They all love him without even knowing him.

Love him enough to envy me.

I absentmindedly look at the sky. We were outside in the middle of a lake.

Beautiful skies, beautiful scenery.

He refuses to enter a home so a stage like boat was made for him. Painted with the most pure white paint that could be made.

As our people were not of the sea, neither did we rely on fishing beyond shallow waters, nor aquatic travels, a lot of trials were taken before a boat fitting for the winged one was made. A lot of wood was scraped in the creation process. It was the first time we've took excessively from the land, but in the eyes of the tribe, it was a necessary sacrifice.

Of course it was detailed in gold paint. Cushion lining and red throw pillows. We could not make our own silk of such high quality so we traded for the first time as well.

There was an anchor so we would no drift, carved stone. But in such tranquil waters and surrounding trees serving as a windbreak, it was not very likely. We still used it, as the carver man has not received so much business in years, it would be insulting to him not to use it.

The purpose of it was so he could find solace and contemplate, or meditate, or whatever it is he did when I'm not with him.

Which wasn't very often.

He never asked for anything of me but to stay by his side, and even this he did in private.

I only do the things the chief has assigned me to do, which was everything concerning him. Even hand feeding him fruit since he won't touch meat.

It always has to be me. He won't even enter village grounds or be near other people without me by his side.

They say it's because I was the one to find him so he trusts me the most.

I don't know.

I like to think it's because I understand him. Even if it is a little bit.

His daily needs, I am aware of them before he himself is.

It also seems like I can communicate non-verbally with him, able to convey his feelings to those that couldn't understand.

I didn't feel proud from this though.

In all honesty, this has felt more like a burden than anything.

I spend less and less time with my family and sword training.

But this was something I couldn't object to, so I accepted it.

He was aware of this.

"I don't resent you or anything." I say with lazy smile.

He is always honest with me so it's only right that I'm honest with him.

"Besides, I like being with you." This was the truth. "And~" I draw out "I think you like being with me too!" I laugh in the end.

His smile is relieved, he nods his head a bit, I could see him blushing.

I really did understand him. Every day he would doubt me and every day I would reaffirm myself. With each time of this happening, I began to see things that shouldn't be there.

His loneliness and cautiousness. His distrust and evasiveness. But I was not conceitful, he let me see these things and I would not take this for granted.

I wanted to help him. But I was limited.

The more he let me see into his heart, the less I revealed of my own.

I wanted to. But my instincts were telling me not to as long as he was like this. I couldn't understand but I trust my instinct. Besides, hiding these thoughts and feelings was something I already did so that didn't affect me too much.

Time passed by.

He grew so attached to me that he refused to separate with me. I rarely saw my family and he watched every one of my training sessions. People of the village wouldn't invite me in anymore, already knowing the answer.

Seeing the benefits of trade the chief had completely changed our lifestyle from surviving to living in what our past selves would call luxury.

Strength became irrelevant and intelligence and political influence became the respected traits.

I trained alone at the lake, him watching me.

Old customs became too outdated as we merged with a neighboring village, tripling our size and becoming a more permanent settlement.

The chief was usurped by the new one regardless of the agreed partnership.

We were taken over.

Education and hierarchy began.

We became Namimori, once again valuing strength under the strict leadership of Hibari Kyouya and what he called his disciplinary committee.

The winged ones existence was forgotten as he did not perform any miracles, nor was he much of a religious leader.

I noticed my own existence also beginning to fade, but it bother me no less than his own. These were not my people.

I wanted to take him away. Me being the only one of our used to be tribe who could still forage, hunt, use practical surviving skills, identify poisonous plants and animals, and properly defend myself with a blade. All these skills that my people once had became rusted as they moved up from what they had called barbaric to civilized.

Now they are poor. Each and every one of them serving those of upper class.

They had fallen, to lost in it to escape.

I, however, could not leave my family. Even if they've forgotten me I still provide for them the best I can. Bringing I-pin a new thatch doll ever once and a while and leaving sweet grapes outside of Lambo's window sill when I hear his cries of hunger. I can't leave them, knowing that at any moment the D.C. could come and deem them unworthy of living in Namimori, either exiling them or taking their lives. I will be there to defend them.

The winged one understood this. He said he could no longer be such a burden to me during these times, which I had made an attempt to disprove, but he was still adamant about it. I taught him basic foraging knowing that he couldn't stand to kill I completely opted out of teaching him hunting, he picked up survival skills easily and as he was naturally skittish, he would only touch what he knew he could eat. He could live in the forest on his own now, though he still wouldn't leave my side, it gave me some comfort.

When he said he wanted to be able to defend himself, I did however feel lost. I knew that himself meant me if he ever needed to and I knew from the start that he wasn't meant for the blade.

He couldn't handle deliberately slicing someone open.

So I had to take him to someone who could teach him, or at least point him in the right direction. I didn't know such a person or anyone who would be able to now.

So I decided to ask my father for council.

That's when the winged one changed.

His appearance would never get pass the boarder and his wing span was too large, though he couldn't fly.

I planned to bring my father to him.

His wings melted into a mirroring tattoo on his back, his skin became slightly tan, his hair darkened brown and so did his eyes.

He looked… normal, for lack of a better word.

Shy and nervous he looked at me. I just smiled. "Good thinking!" I replied before grabbing him, leading him to the village.

My father recognized me immediately. The younger ones asleep upstairs. He cried, hugged me and asked of my well being. All I could do was give him a carefree smile.

Skipping over pleasantries I asked my father if he knew anyone that could train my friend in hand to hand combat, the only fighting style that I could think of that didn't need a weapon.

Taking notice of him my father asked his name. The used to be winged one stepped back, those feelings of fear and cautiousness taking over. I thought quickly.

"Tsunayoshi." I replied.

Lucky rope.


End file.
